Tomcat Serenade
by Atarah Derekh
Summary: Sarah Phillips, privileged daughter of Major Samuel Phillips, and the face that launched a thousand ships (for the fandom, anyway). Between the endless letters she receives from Temple Franklin and the attention she gets from Udney Wolf-Hutchinson and Alexander Hamilton, Sarah begins to wish she only had one poor orphan pursuing her. Problem is, James' approach is...non-committal.
1. Temple

**Tomcat Serenade**

 **Disclaimer:** Dic owns Sarah, James, Henri, Moses, and I'm pretty sure they own Udney too. All historical domain characters belong to themselves.

* * *

 _Philadelphia, PA, March, 1777_

"Mail's here!"

Henri loved his self-assigned role as the mail receiver. It was the only time everyone in the house came running when he called. At not-quite-12 years old, he had very limited autonomy and almost no authority, and thus savored what little power he did wield.

Moments after Henri's announcement, Sarah, James and Moses were in the front room of the print shop, clamoring for the coveted letters Henri held aloft.

"One at a time, one at a time!" Henri chastised, grinning as he swept the sealed letters back and forth. He knew the drill; Moses got his mail first, as it was usually something from the boss, or information about important orders. Then Sarah, who wouldn't rest until she knew if there was mail from either of her parents. Finally, James would be given any dispatches from the various contacts he had made on behalf of the Pennsylvania Gazette. On occasion, the postman would accidentally deliver mail for Dr. Franklin's daughter Sally to the print shop, and it was Henri's duty to see that it got into the right hands. He especially loved those days, as it gave him an excuse to escape the print shop for the day and play with Sally's children, who seemed to be the only people on earth who could match Henri's energy level.

After successfully fending off his housemates, Henri sorted through the stack of letters.

"Moses, from Dr. Franklin. And another from...Walling...ford...Supply Co." Henri stumbled over the hastily scribbled name, handing both letters to Moses.

"That'll be the ink shipment," Moses said as he accepted his mail.

"Sarah!" Henri waved the next letter as he announced the recipient.

"From Mother, I presume?" Sarah said, reaching for the paper.

"Nope. This one's from Mssr. William Temple Franklin." He gave Sarah a teasing grin as she grabbed the letter from him.

"Really, Henri," Sarah scolded, turning red as she looked over the name. "Can't two friends correspond?"

"Sure, 'friends,'" Henri said, looking to James for affirmation.

James merely grimaced. He chose to ignore the remark, turning instead to Henri. "And the rest of it's for me, right?"

Henri handed over the last two letters. "From Morristown," he said. "Who do you know in Morristown?"

James tore into the first dispatch. "Two of my contacts, Corporal Wolf-Hutchinson—you remember Udney—and Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton. Col. Hamilton promised to write once he got settled into his new job as Washington's main secretary."

"Is that who the big letter is from?" Henri asked, pointing at the second, noticeably thick letter in James' hand.

"Must be," James replied. "This one's from Udney. He's not much for writing, but I guess Hamilton is. I heard Hamilton was the one who wrote that pamphlet we read in New York last summer. You know, Sarah, the Farmer Refuted?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do remember. 'Publius' and 'the Farmer,' as they called themselves, were quite rude and abrasive to one another. I'd hate to see what a row they'd cause if they were allowed to debate face to face."

James laughed. "I can see it now! The Farmer on a soapbox in the middle of the square, with Hamilton trying to shout him down. What a sight that would be! He'd do it, too. Hamilton loves to argue."

"Why is he calling himself Publius?" Henri asked. "I thought his first name was Alexander?"

Moses chuckled. "It's not uncommon for people to write under a pseudonym. It's a way of protecting their identity and avoiding sounding too arrogant. Publius is Hamilton's pseudonym, while the Farmer is the pseudonym chosen by another man."

"A tory," James added. "Rumor is he's a preacher from Connecticut by the name of Seabury."

"He's a man voicing his opinion," Sarah said firmly. "I thought the whole point of this Revolution was to give people the right to do just that."

James held up his hands. "Okay, fair enough. Still, Hamilton has the better argument. It's long, but it's really good."

"This Hamilton seems to me the sort whose last priority is keeping the peace with his neighbors," Sarah said. "I'd just as soon avoid him, if it's all the same to you."

James shrugged. "Your loss. But he really is a genius."

Sarah hummed disapprovingly and turned back to her letter.

"So, what does Temple say?" Henri asked, stretching to read over Sarah's shoulder.

"It's none of your concern," Sarah said. "He's simply telling me of the goings on in Paris. The sort of correspondence you'd expect between friends."

"Yeah, right! You know how much he likes you!"

Sarah turned red. "And what if he does? Is a man not allowed to show interest in a woman?"

"Do you like him?"

"Henri! It's really none of your business!"

"But that's the fifth letter he's written you since he and Dr. Franklin left for France. He must be in love!" Henri clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyes in mockery. He failed to notice James behind him, who glowered and gave a low, barely audible growl.

"Henri, leave Sarah alone," Moses scolded. "Let her enjoy her private letter."

Henri giggled. "Oh, I'm sure it's very private!"

Sarah spun around to glare at him. "Henri!"

"Okay! Sorry. I was just teasing. But I thought you didn't like him. You said he's from the East End, whatever that means."

"East End London," Sarah said. "That's where he was born. His father abandoned him young, but his grandfather was quick to take him in. He's not exactly of noble birth, but he's learned so much since he came to stay with Dr. Franklin. He's the sort that's not hard to turn into a gentleman. It helps that Dr. Franklin is a very good teacher. For one thing, Dr. Franklin has taught Temple the critical importance of taking responsibility for one's actions."

"A lesson Mr. Bill Franklin failed to learn from his father," Moses added.

"Which would explain their unfortunate falling out," Sarah said.

"Oh, that's not why Dr. Franklin and his son aren't getting along," James chimed in. "Bill Franklin is a tory, plain and simple. He thinks his dad is a fool. And since his kid was born in London, don't be surprised if Temple turns out to be just like him."

"James, I can't believe you!" Sarah said. "I know you and Temple don't see eye to eye, but that remark was completely uncalled for! He had no say in where he was born, and just because he's a Londoner, that doesn't make him a bad person. Nor does his father's loyalty to the crown make _him_ a bad person."

"The same loyalty that made him abandon his London-born kid?"

"The subjects are not remotely related! You are just looking for excuses to speak badly of Temple, and I can't imagine why!"

James crossed his arms. "I just don't think he can be trusted."

"And why not?"

"Because...he just...I just don't trust him, that's all."

"Is it because he spent all his time while he was here trying to impress Sarah?" Henri suggested.

James turned red. "No! That's...that's not it at all! I couldn't care less what he thinks of Sarah! It's not important!"

Moses shook his head. "Then I suggest you drop the subject, James," he said. "Temple isn't here, so there's no point in swinging at phantoms. Tell us instead what your friends in Morristown have to say."

James pouted for a moment before turning to Udney's letter. "Oh, this is good! Udney says he's heard rumors about a new spy ring Washington wants to set up in New York City. A Major Tallmadge is going to be in charge of it. He suggests I come and interview Tallmadge if I can and let Udney in on it."

"Does Udney not realize he's putting himself and Major Tallmadge at risk just writing about it?" Sarah said.

"According to Udney, it's no secret that Tallmadge is Washington's new head of intelligence," James replied. "And as a responsible journalist, I of course wouldn't dream of publishing anything that would compromise any operation Washington currently has going in New York. But I've gotta meet this Tallmadge."

"I think I'll go along, if you don't mind," Sarah said. "I've been meaning to get out of the house, and I would like very much to meet up with General Arnold, who should be in New Jersey about now."

"You just want to see Ugly again," James teased.

Sarah glared at him. "I don't understand you, James. You take issue with Temple's advances, but have no problem bothering me about Udney."

"I like Udney," James said. "I don't like Temple. Just like you have your own list of people you do and don't like."

Sarah sighed, but let the subject drop. "I'm going to get ready for our trip. I suggest you do the same."

"You coming along, Henri?" James asked.

"Of course!" Henri cried. "I want to know about the new spy ring too!" With that, he dashed off to the barn, where he shared an apartment with Moses.

"Keep an eye on that boy," Moses instructed the two teens.

"As always," James said.

* * *

 **AN:** Please remember to log in to review. I cannot reply to your questions otherwise.


	2. Alexander

A few days later, the two teenagers and their young French charge pulled their wagon into the camp at Morristown, New Jersey. The army was enjoying a lull in military activity, and the kids noted how restless some of the men seemed.

James pointed toward a rise, where a large tent stood. "That looks like Washington's tent. We'd better let him know we're here. He doesn't really like being caught off guard by the press."

Sarah nodded. The three of them hopped out of the wagon and headed toward Washington's quarters.

As they approached the tent, an officer came out. He had strawberry-blond hair and noticeably deep blue eyes. He wore a green sash and an artillery cap with a bright red feather. His face lit up when he saw the trio.

"James Hiller!"

James smiled. "Colonel Alexander Hamilton!" He held out his hand, which Hamilton shook firmly.

"What brings you to Morristown?" Hamilton asked.

"A potential new story," James said, then chuckled. "Though, I think if I ever need a story from you, I'll just let you write the whole thing and we'll edit for length."

"Are you saying I write too much?" Hamilton teased. "You'd be right. That's how I ended up chained to a desk for the foreseeable future."

"I'm sure it won't be forever," James said. He then gestured to his companions. "You remember Henri?"

The French tween gave a dramatic bow. "Henri Richard Maurice DuTois LeFebvre."

" _J_ _e suis très heureux de faire votre connaissance_ ," Hamilton replied, returning the bow.

Henri's face lit up. " _Vous parlez fran_ _ç_ _ais!_ "

James looked at Hamilton in surprise. "You speak French?"

"I just said that!" Henri said.

Hamilton laughed. "My mother was French," he explained. "I grew up bilingual. I also learned some Hebrew from a Jewish teacher I had as a child."

"They say a man of many languages has an intellectual advantage over the average man," Sarah said. "I'm Sarah Phillips, by the way. Like James, I write for the Pennsylvania Gazette."

The moment Hamilton made eye contact with the ginger English girl, his entire demeanor seemed to change. He gave her a charming grin and a bow, his eyes sparkling. "It is a great pleasure to meet a lovely young woman such as yourself," he said. "Especially one who flatters an unworthy individual such as myself with praise. I'm but a mere orphan immigrant, while you are clearly a lady of breeding. You carry yourself with a learned grace befitting one of your beauty."

Sarah blushed a deep crimson, caught by those enchanting eyes. They seemed to shift from blue to violet in the sunlight. She had heard of violet eyes before, but had never seen them. She held out her hand for Hamilton to kiss. "Oh...you are quite the charmer, aren't you?" She pulled her hand back immediately after the exchange. "But please, don't diminish yourself on the basis of your birth. A man's origin has little to do with his intelligence. Clearly General Washington saw your value. He wouldn't have offered you such an important position if he believed such honors were to be reserved to men of noble birth. I myself have met well-bred gentlemen who, despite their education, showed a lack of sense."

"As have I," Hamilton replied. "Nonetheless, you do me a great honor with your praise."

Throughout the exchange, James and Henri stood to the side, rolling their eyes and suppressing childish giggles. Sarah shot a glare at them.

"Would you two please cease the tittering?" she scolded. "Honestly, James, you must learn to act your age!"

"Hey, I thought you were fully prepared not to like the man who wrote 'Farmer Refuted,'" James replied. "Guess you changed your mind."

Sarah blushed. "Well, we all have our moments," she said. "I also have a temper, and sometimes it can come across in my own writing."

"I think it comes with the hair color," Hamilton said with a smirk. "At least, that's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it!"

Sarah couldn't help but laugh at that. "That may be, but in truth, it's hardly a worthy excuse," she said.

"So I'm told. His excellency had dark red hair and a temper in his youth. He's constantly lecturing me on the need to control my own temper. I suppose when I do master my tongue, I should start powdering my hair, like he does."

"I'm not entirely certain it's our place to speculate on why the general chooses to powder his hair."

"Perhaps not, but we can't help ourselves. We have an unfortunate condition known as being human."

"At any rate, it's very becoming of him," Sarah said firmly. Hamilton took the hint and merely nodded in agreement.

At that moment, a black man in a blue jacket stepped out of the tent. "Col. Hamilton, General Washington wishes to speak to you again."

Hamilton smiled at the man. "I'll be right in. Mr. Lee, please tell his excellency that the journalists from the Pennsylvania Gazette are here."

Lee nodded, then ducked back into the tent.

Hamilton nodded toward the tent. "You three can follow me in. Washington will let you know if he needs to speak to me privately."

The four walked into the tent.

"You needed to see me, your excellency?" Hamilton said.

"Yes, I have another item to add to your workload," Washington said, giving Hamilton an apologetic look. "I realize I've asked quite a lot of you already today."

"It's not a problem, sir," Hamilton said. "What do you need?"

"Congress wants me to send along their response to Benedict Arnold's most recent request for a promotion. And it's...not kind. I don't have the words to break the news to him, but perhaps you can find them."

"You would like me to write a preface to their letter?"

"No, I'd like you to completely rewrite the letter."

"Ooh. That bad, sir?"

"Well, to be fair, Arnold's initial request was...abrasive, to put it kindly." Washington sighed. "The downside to a fighting spirit is it doesn't discriminate well between enemy combatants and the more difficult personalities on one's own side. The last thing we can afford in this war is infighting."

"I'll do my best, sir," Hamilton said. "Ah...in the meantime..."

"Yes, the young journalists," Washington said with a nod. "My servant, William Lee, informed me they were here. What brings our young friends from the press to our camp?"

James stepped forward. "Well, sir, I received a letter from a friend that mentioned you have a new head of intelligence. A Major Benjamin Tallmadge. I was hoping I could interview him."

Washington nodded. "He won't be able to give you much to work with, as his position means that most of the work he does is classified. But I suppose it's no secret how he gained the position. You can find him on the east side of the camp. He spends most of his free time poking around the workshop of Mr. Nathaniel Sackett, who himself might be an interesting story for you."

"Thank you, General," James said as he scribbled down the name. He turned to Sarah and Henri. "I'm gonna go find Major Tallmadge. Will you two be alright here?"

"We are not babies, James," Henri said with a pout.

"We'll be fine," Sarah assured him.

"I would be happy to help Miss Phillips and our young French friend get their things set up in one of the guest tents," Hamilton volunteered.

Washington waved him off. "Colonel, you have things to write," he reminded his young aide. He turned to his servant. "Billy, please see to it that Miss Phillips and Mr...I'm sorry, son, I've forgotten your name."

"Henri LeFebvre," Henri replied enthusiastically.

"Thank you." He turned back to Billy. "See that Miss Phillips and Mr. LeFebvre are settled in the VIP tent. Don't be afraid to recruit corpsmen to assist you, and if any of them object, I'll have a word with them. You'll have to wall off a section of the tent so Miss Phillips can have her privacy."

"Yessir," Billy said with a sharp nod. He stepped around Washington's desk and pointed toward the doorway. "Miss Phillips, if you'll follow me, please."

Sarah and Henri turned to follow Billy. Suddenly, Sarah paused.

"General Washington, if I can be of any assistance in delivering that letter to General Arnold...well, he is a good friend. Perhaps I can help soften the blow of what Congress has to say?"

Washington stroked his chin. "That might not be a bad idea. Hamilton will let you know when he's finished with the letter."

"Yessir," Hamilton said. "Perhaps Miss Phillips can lend her editing skills to the final draft."

"Not a bad idea, Colonel," Sarah said with a smile. With that, she followed Billy and Henri out of the tent.

Hamilton smiled as he watched the English girl leave. "Lovely girl," he said wistfully.

"Business first," Washington scolded, snapping Hamilton out of his fantasy. "Tread carefully with that one, Mr. Hamilton. She can match you in temper and wit."

"I enjoy a challenge, sir," Hamilton said with a wry grin.

Washington rolled his eyes. "To work, Colonel."

"Yes, your excellency."

* * *

 **AN:** I am not ashamed to admit that I googled the French phrases. So if they're incorrect, blame Google Translate and that website that was supposed to include French greetings.


	3. Udney

Sarah and Henri followed Billy Lee back to their wagon. As they passed a group of soldiers, Billy called out to them.

"Soldiers, General Washington wishes you to assist our guests from the Pennsylvania Gazette."

The men glared at Billy. One of them got up and walked menacingly over to the trio.

"Who d'you think you're givin' orders to, blackie?" the man growled.

Billy stood his ground. "To a _soldier,_ subordinate in rank to General Washington, on behalf of his excellency."

The man snorted. "If Washington wants to order me around, he can come do it himself, 'stead of sendin' his slave to tell a white man what to do."

"Then perhaps you oughta take that up with him."

"You wanna get yerself hit, boy?"

Sarah pulled Henri close to her as the tension increased. The two men stood mere inches apart, staring one another down.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, "What's going on, Thompson?"

Sarah turned to see Udney approaching.

Thompson turned from his stare-down to respond to the other soldier. "This here negro thought he could come push us white folks around."

Udney sighed. "Phil, we've been over this with basically every officer in camp. William Lee has the authority to relay all of his excellency's messages, and to ignore them is to defy the general himself."

"He's just a slave! He ain't even a real soldier!"

"In what way?"

"He ain't got no rank."

"Well, he certainly doesn't have as much rank as you," Udney said, making a face and waving his hand in front of his nose.

Billy smirked, while Sarah and Henri giggled.

"At any rate, it doesn't matter. He does all the same things we soldiers do, and he personally protects the general in battle. Washington trusts him implicitly. And if Washington says Mr. Lee's word is as good as his, I'm not about to challenge it."

"Well, then, you can take orders from slave boy here," Thompson huffed. "But I ain't about to." With that, he stormed off, back to his group of snickering buddies.

Udney shook his head. "Sorry about them, Mr. Lee. And I'm sorry you had to see that, Miss Phillips."

Billy sighed. "You don't have to apologize for him, Corporal. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be."

"He's right, I'm just a slave. I know the general's given me authority to take his messages around camp, but I don't know why he expects anybody to listen to them."

"Forget them," Udney insisted. "What did the general want?"

"He wants a couple of corpsmen to help Miss Phillips and her friend here get set up in the VIP tent."

"Well, we can handle that," Udney said. He approached Sarah and held out an arm. "Miss Phillips, I'm more than happy to assist you in setting up camp."

"You're very kind, Corporal," Sarah said with a smile, taking his arm. She turned to Billy. "Mr. Lee, I'm dreadfully sorry about the unacceptable behavior of that soldier. I'm sure General Washington would hardly approve."

Billy held up a hand. "It's no big deal, miss, really. If it's alright, I'd like to focus on getting your things into the tent."

It didn't take long for the four of them to get the horse unhitched and the bags into the VIP tent. As Sarah organized her things and watched Udney and Billy hang up the wall that would separate her section of the tent from the boys, she found herself unable to keep silent the question burning on her lips.

"Mr. Lee, I don't mean to sound intrusive, but...is it true what that man said? You're General Washington's slave?"

"Yes, ma'am," Billy answered without looking away from his work. "Head slave, to be exact."

"You sound almost proud of it. How can you be proud to belong to someone else? And to General Washington of all people. I had no idea he owned slaves! He seemed...well..."

As Billy finished hanging his side of the curtain, he turned to Sarah with an amused grin. "Let me get this straight, ma'am. You expected one of the richest men in Virginia to _not_ own slaves?"

"But he's supposed to be fighting for freedom! What good does that do when he owns other human beings?"

"Hey, nobody's perfect," Udney said.

"But not everybody need be a hypocrite either!"

"That's a bit strong, Miss Phillips," Billy said.

"Is it not true?"

Billy shook his head. "Look, if you confronted the general about it directly, he'd admit outright that it's hypocritical to preach freedom while owning slaves. But here's the thing; ten years ago, he wouldn't have. He'd have taken offense to the idea."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"General Washington grew up around slaves, and inherited his first slaves when he was only 11 years old. It was just a way of life to him. But lately, his views of slavery have been changing. You didn't really notice it at first, but the other slaves say he really began changing after me and my brother came to Mount Vernon. He stopped using the word 'slave' to refer to us, and you can actually see him get uncomfortable when someone else calls us that."

"If his views on slavery have changed so, why doesn't he set you free?"

Billy shrugged. "Well, first of all, he hasn't gotten _that_ far. But he is learning. You just gotta be patient with him. Second, even if he were a full on abolitionist, Virginia law prevents him from freeing us outright. He'd have to set us free in his will. And, honestly, he's too good a man to wish death on just so we can be free."

Sarah fell silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "I suppose...we do all have our vices to overcome. If you can be patient with the general, I should think I can as well."

Billy gave her a slight bow. "I do thank you for your compassion, ma'am. Ours is a long fight, but we'll get there one day. Now, if there's nothing else you need..."

"No, I think we're alright for now. Thank you, Mr. Lee."

Billy nodded. "Good evening, then, Miss Phillips." With that, he left the tent.

Sarah sighed and sat down on her cot. She could hear Henri snoring on the other side of the tent. He'd passed out almost the moment he had his bedroll out.

Udney knelt beside the cot and pretended to shuffle some bags around. "So...I didn't realize you considered yourself an abolitionist."

Sarah crossed her arms. "That's why I don't understand this whole cry for freedom. The colonists want their freedom, but deny it to people with skin different from their own."

Udney sat on the cot and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Well, maybe this Revolution is exactly what we need, then. Maybe this will open our eyes to how precious freedom is for everyone. What if gaining our independence from Britain leads to helping the slaves gain their independence? Don't you think it would be worth it then?"

Sarah pondered that for a moment. "If I could be certain American independence would lead to freedom for all slaves, I would have no choice but to fully support your cause. As it is, I suppose the reason I can't bring myself to sympathize with the colonists is because of the slavery issue."

"Hey, that's a fair reason," Udney said. "And you're not the only one. A lot of people in Connecticut are against slavery, including Tallmadge and a well known tory reverend named Samuel Seabury. Even though the patriots and loyalists are split pretty evenly, more of us agree on the need to end slavery than we do on the need for independence. We were kind of thinking of starting an abolitionist group after the war."

Sarah smiled. "If you can unite on an issue like slavery, it's fair to say England will have a difficult fight on her hands."

Udney laughed. "You know, you're more than welcome to help us start a society like that, if you were to consider moving to Connecticut after the war."

"Sir, I do believe you have an ulterior motive in extending that invitation," Sarah teased.

"I won't incriminate myself," Udney said, giving her a mischievous grin. "But it would not hurt my feelings to have a lovely lady such as yourself fighting alongside good Connecticut men for the cause of abolition. I know you've certainly got the voice for it."

"I might consider it," Sarah said with a slight blush.

The two teens fell into an awkward silence. Eventually, Udney stood.

"Well, Miss Phillips, it's getting late, and I don't wish to give anyone the impression of impropriety. I'll take my leave now."

Sarah nodded. "Thank you for your assistance, Corporal."

"It was my pleasure." Udney bowed and slipped out of the tent.

* * *

 **AN:** I have no idea where Seabury stood on the issue of slavery. I figure he should have some redeeming quality other than his singing voice.


	4. James

It was after sundown by the time James made it back to the VIP tent. He'd enjoyed a long conversation with Tallmadge and a friend of his, a Mr. Caleb Brewster. Brewster was fiercely patriotic, and more so than that, he was loyal to his friends and to General Washington. Tallmadge, who wasn't more than three or four years older than James, had been very careful in what he was willing to reveal about his work as Washington's head of intelligence. But he had also supplied James with more than enough information for a good story. James had even had the pleasure of meeting the eccentric Nathaniel Sackett, self-taught cryptologist, and keeper of all things spy. To James' surprise, Sackett had been entrusted with the care of David Bushnell's submarine, the Turtle. That brought back some memories.

As James entered the tent, he saw Henri was already sound asleep. He had expected the French boy to be skulking around camp, mooching off of soldiers' dinners. He walked over to the curtain separating him from Sarah and gave it a tap.

"You awake, Sarah?"

"Yes," Sarah answered.

"You decent?"

"Yes, James, you can come in."

James followed her invitation. Sarah was sitting on her cot, going over Temple's letter, an unfinished letter to her mother sitting at her side atop her diary.

"So, when are you leaving to meet up with Arnold?" James asked.

Sarah gave a slight shrug. "Colonel Hamilton hasn't sent for me to help him edit his letter."

"Well, when he does, I can come along and help you escape if need be."

Sarah turned red, drawing a smirk from James.

"Really, James, you are shameless!"

"You catch a lot of the guys' eyes," James said nonchalantly.

Sarah gave him a sly grin. "Jealous much?"

James blushed. "Who, me? Nah! Why would I be jealous? I mean, really, you're an independent, wealthy woman whose father is a well respected British officer. That basically makes you free to do whatever you want, go almost anywhere you want..." he lowered his voice and turned away, "...court whoever you want."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You are jealous."

"Am not!" James crossed his arms and pouted.

Sarah fingered the pendant that hung around her neck. It was a gift from James, made from his mother's ring. It had been the one memento he'd had from his late parents. That he'd sacrificed it to replace her locket had demonstrated conclusively that he had taken an almost immediate liking to her, despite their sharp differences on the issue of American independence. She was hesitant to broach the subject to James, especially since he put on a show of having no interest in her. But it wasn't difficult to see how uncomfortable he became when other men showered her with attention. Temple was, so far, the only person with whom James had nearly come to blows, but that might have been helped by the fact that both Temple and James spent most of their time around Sarah, at least until Temple joined his grandfather on a diplomatic mission to France.

Sarah sighed. She couldn't let the subject linger unaddressed, like the proverbial elephant in the room.

"James, about Temple..."

She was interrupted by a rapping on one of the tent poles.

"Excuse me," came Hamilton's voice, "Miss Phillips? I've finished that letter to General Arnold, if you'd like to look it over."

"Come in, Colonel," Sarah called.

Hamilton obeyed, joining James and Sarah behind the curtain. He nodded toward James. "I apologize if I'm interrupting anything."

"No, nothing at all," James said quickly, relieved to have been rescued from whatever would have followed, "about Temple."

Hamilton handed his letter to Sarah. "If it's to your satisfaction, Miss Phillips, General Washington said I can escort you to General Arnold's headquarters in New York first thing tomorrow."

Sarah read over the letter. "This is...quite good, Colonel. You've certainly made Congress sound much more polite than General Washington implied they were."

"A challenge, I have to admit," Hamilton said. "I'm not known for my tact in my own writing, but I've had to master it for the purpose of managing his excellency's correspondence."

"Well, if I know Benedict Arnold, nothing will completely soften this blow to his ego. I would never dream of speaking negatively about him, but I do fear his pride will lead him to do something rash one of these days, and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"You know, Miss Phillips, my old patron in New York City once said the same thing about me, almost verbatim. Of course, that was after I'd dragged him along with me to steal British cannons."

"You didn't."

Hamilton puffed out his chest. "I did. Under fire. It was some of my finest work, really."

"Okay, now, that's a story!" James said with a grin.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the tent pole.

"Miss Phillips, it's Corporal Wolf-Hutchinson. I just wanted to see how you're settling in."

James rolled his eyes. "Come on in, Udney."

When Udney appeared, he looked around the now crowded room. "Oh, I didn't know you were...in a meeting. I'll stop back tomorrow."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Sarah said. "We were just discussing a letter we need to deliver tomorrow."

"So you'll be leaving?"

Sarah nodded. "Colonel Hamilton has orders to escort me to General Arnold's headquarters so that I may help deliver him some less than pleasant news."

"Oh, well, if you need any assistance in that, I'm sure my CO can spare me."

"We've got it covered, Corporal," Hamilton said, somewhat curtly.

James suppressed a laugh. "Wow, Sarah, it's probably a good thing Temple isn't here. This could get messy fast."

Sarah turned beet red. "James Hiller!"

An awkward silence settled over the tent as the men glanced uncertainly at one another. After a few moments, they began speaking at once.

"Perhaps..."

"Maybe it's best if I..."

"Yeah, I'm gonna just..."

But before any of them could finish the thought, Sarah jumped up, pushed past all of them and fled the tent, leaving the three boys feeling very sheepish.

Udney spoke first. "I'll go check on her." He turned to leave, but Hamilton clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay where you are, Corporal." He turned to James. "You ought to follow her."

James gaped at the officer. "Me?"

Hamilton gave him a stern look. "You've known her longest, and it's abundantly clear you care about her. Which means she trusts you far more than she ever could either of us."

"Yeah, I do know her best," James said. "That's why I don't wanna bother her right now."

"You two need to talk this out."

James raised an eyebrow. "If you're interested in her, why don't you talk to her?"

Hamilton sighed. "Look, I'll freely admit, I'm a sucker for a pretty face. But I also know when to back off, contrary to all appearances in battle and politics. You've had your eye on her for a long time, James. Anyone can see that. But more so than that, you're her friend. Whatever she needs to hear, you know what it is, and it would mean more coming from you than from either of us." He finished his speech with a smirk. "And if she flat out rejects you, I'll make my move."

"I hope you don't mind a little non-com competition, sir," Udney said. "But he's right, James. You're Sarah's friend, and you've known her longest, so not only do you get a head start, but you know what she needs right now."

James glanced back and forth between the two men. Finally he sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'll go see how she's doing."

He figured he wouldn't have far to look. Sarah typically went down to the stable when she was upset. Sure enough, he found her at the paddock, stroking Caesar's nose, deep in thought. The gray stallion leaned into her, one back hoof cocked, totally relaxed.

James cautiously approached. "Hey, Sarah."

"What do you want, James?"

James winced at the harsh tone. He took a deep breath and began his hastily cobbled together apology. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. We...I...was wrong to make you so uncomfortable like that."

"Yes, you were," Sarah said. "Why did you do that?"

"I wasn't thinking. Or...I was, but I was only thinking about...or trying not to think about..." he fumbled. He wasn't sure where to go from here. "Maybe you were right. What you said earlier. Maybe I'm...just a little...jealous." He finished with a hushed tone.

Sarah turned to look at him. James studies his shoes, kicking at something imaginary.

"I've always been kind of...awkward around girls. And having you living in the print shop has kind of forced me to figure out how to talk to girls. I guess I've always sort of been afraid that...no one would be interested in an orphan who can barely hash out a half decent news story. I mean, even Hamilton has a commission and some heroic stories to make people forget his background. I don't exactly have that. And Temple, well, he's the grandson of Benjamin Franklin! It's hard to find a better bragging right than that. Udney's got pretty much the same opportunity Hamilton does, and he's probably got a more attractive background anyway. Basically, they all beat the socks off of someone like me. I don't stand a chance. Especially not with someone of high birth like you."

Sarah blinked away tears. She'd never seen James so vulnerable. She wasn't certain he'd had the capacity to make himself vulnerable like this. She stepped away from Caesar and approached James, who kept his eyes down. She clasped her hands at her waist and studied her fellow journalist for a moment.

Finally, she said, "James, thank you."

"For what?"

"For finally being honest with me. With yourself." She reached for his hand. "I know it's not always easy, especially when you've grown up believing that the only way to get anywhere in life is to put on a facade of toughness. And if I may be honest, I find your willingness to finally take off that mask to be much more attractive than all of the flirting of those other three boys."

James gaped at her. "R-really?"

Sarah blushed. "James Hiller, I would much rather spend my time with someone who has become a close friend, despite our differences, than I would around three pretentious young men who are so brazen in their intentions. You've always respected me as a lady. I'm not saying the others don't, but they do see me as a prize to be won. You don't. You see me as an individual. Independent. And...I deeply appreciate that."

James smiled. "Thanks, Sarah. You don't know what that means to me."

Sarah's hand flew to her pendant. "I think I have some idea," she said.

"So, are you going with Hamilton tomorrow to see General Arnold?"

Sarah sighed. "Actually, if it's all the same to you, James, I think I would rather go on to Boston. I would like to spend some time with Abigail Adams. Get her advice as an older woman, more experienced in matters of the heart."

James shrugged. "That might be a good idea. And I know who can take you. Caleb Brewster. He's a bit crude, but he's got his eye on another girl, so he won't add to the problems you already have with four boneheads. And he's headed that direction anyway. Special assignment."

Sarah chuckled at the "bonehead" comment. "That sounds perfect. But for now, I need to get some rest." She gave James a quick peck on the cheek, drawing an immediate crimson blush from the other teen. "Good night, James."

With that, Sarah let go of James' hand and headed for the tent, leaving the blond journalist standing stunned in the starlight, his hand going to his cheek as he processed what had just happened.

Yeah. That happened.

* * *

The End.

* * *

 **AN:** So, that's it. This was intended to be a one-shot, but in true Hamilton fashion, it kind of got away from me. As always, review, review, review!


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